“My dear child,” he said, “with me you need have no apprehension. A full-curled wig descended half-way down his back and shoulders; a neckcloth of "right Mechlin" was twisted round his throat so tightly as almost to deprive him of breath, and threaten him with apoplexy; he had lace, also, at his wrists and bosom; gold clocks to his hose, and red heels to his shoes. . They drove up into Paris in an open fiacre with a soft cool wind blowing in their faces, hand in hand beneath the rug. " "Unworthy, indeed!" sneered Mrs.
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